Coffee Shop
by Anovia
Summary: Antonio ignored Lovino's harsh comments, actually beginning to get used to them. What does Francis always say? Opposition is only because the other doesn't want to come to terms with their feelings for you. Then again, Francis got a restraining order... This is a one-shot Spamano. Human names used. Lovino goes to buy coffee in a store where Antonio works. Rated T for Lovino.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is a one shot that I've been sitting on since I joined Fanfiction. I didn't exactly know what to do with it so I made it a one-shot, it may become a two-shot. Constructive Criticism wanted! Destructive criticism can be kept to yourself. Remember if you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything. Please enjoy! R&R.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Starbucks, that's just the setting for the beginning of this story. I don't own Hetalia either, but I'm on fanfiction, you could've guessed that yourself.**

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"Welcome to Starbucks, how may I help you, sir?" asked the tall Spanish cashier. He had bright green eyes and dark brown hair, a contrast that suited him quite nicely. Lovino spent about five minutes staring at the man before realizing he had to provide a response.

"Hmmm?" The Italian took a moment to take in his surroundings. He looked around quickly and remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

"What would you like to drink?"

"Coffee."

"I'll get right on it. Would you care for anything else?"

"No." The man with the Antonio name tag came back with a regular coffee in a couple of seconds, record time considering he spent half an hour on the last order. Lovino reached into his back pocket to get money to pay, but the cashier stopped him.

"It's on the house," Antonio smiled.

"You can't fucking buy me drinks bastard. I'm not a girl!" Lovino angrily slammed his money on the table, sending quarters flying everywhere. "I'm adult! I can buy my own damn coffee!" He grabbed his drink, went to the nearest table, took his laptop from his messenger bag, and began to type angrily. It took him a couple of minutes to realize that he wasn't writing a review for the movie he had recently seen, but the name Antonio, over and over again. Lovino cursed himself quietly, deleting the page and opening a new one. Lovino tasted his coffee; it took all of his strength to not spit it out. It needed sugar. As if on cue Antonio came up to him.

After the coffee fiasco, Antonio needed a reason to talk to the good-looking Italian. He had to get his name and number. Antonio tried to remember what his friend, Francis, kept telling him, but trying to give him a free drink had failed. Antonio looked at the other, who was typing away avidly. He surveyed the Italian, waiting for him to react to his purposely sugarless coffee. Antonio watched as the brown-eyed man's facial expression turned from one of anger, to disgust as he took a sip of his coffee and the Spaniard took this as his opportunity. He took as many sugar packets as he could hold and sped towards the other while trying to appear casual.

"Sorry, I forgot to give you sugar," he apologized, placing a fist full of sugar next to the Italian's laptop.

"And you fucking remembered this_ after_ I had to take a mouthful of that crap?"

"I'm so sorry," Antonio apologized again with sad puppy dog eyes.

"Whatever." The man took the sugar, rolling his eyes, and began to rip open packets and dump the contents into the disgusting drink. That's when Antonio noticed the sticker on the man's laptop.

"Lovino?" The Italian, who had started to stir his drink, stopped as he heart the Spaniard's voice.

"How the fuck did you know my name?!" Lovino exclaimed, startled.

"Your laptop says 'property of Lovino'," Antonio stated, pointing towards the label.

"Well_ Antonio_, when you want to know someone's name, you fucking ask them. Unless you have the intention of coming off as some creepy psychopathic stalker, don't fucking say people's names if they didn't tell you!" That kind of yelling probably would've attracted attention if it wasn't a slow day; there was only one other person in the entire store.

"Sorry…, I should make it up to you."

"I'd like to see you try, fuckface." Antonio ignored Lovino's harsh comments, actually beginning to get used to them. _What does Francis always say? Opposition is only because the other doesn't want to come to terms with their feelings for you. Then again, Francis got a restraining order..._

"Let me take you out to dinner. That way I can formally apologize." Lovino stared at him for a moment before agreeing. _It's not like he likes you_, Lovino told himself. _He just wants to apologize, don't get your hopes up._

"You'd better, or else I'm never buying coffee here again!"

"Can I have your number or would you prefer to call me? Better, we could exchange numbers."

Lovino argued with himself mentally. He didn't want to be the one waiting by the phone, but he didn't want to call early and appear too eager, not that he wanted to go out to dinner with this guy.

"I don't want to give you my number in case you're even creepier than I already think you are. I'll get yours and I _might_ call, _if_ I feel like it." Antonio quickly took out his notepad and scribbled down ten digits, handing them to Lovino.

"Great," Antonio smiled, "See you soon Lovi."

"What the fuck did you just call me?"

"Lovi, it's cute isn't it?"

"It's cute as fuck, but who gave you permission to call me that? The fuck is wrong with you? Do I look like a girl? Don't give me a fucking cute nickname!"

"Aww, Lovi, don't be like that. It's just so cute, I have to say it. Listen: Lovi. LoviLoviLoviLoviLovi! Adorable right?"

Lovino looked infuriated. "You're going the right way if you want to be punched in the face!"

"Aww, Lovi, don't be so cruel."

Lovino took his coffee, seething, and calmly uncapped it before chucking the piping hot drink all over the employee. The infuriated Italian didn't even bother putting his laptop away, he was too angry. He simply grabbed all of his belongings in his hands and stormed off. When he got to the door the question of how to open it dawned on the frustrated man. He stared at it momentarily. His hands were full and he'd be damned if he had to turn around in the middle of his dramatic exist. _What idiot makes an exit a pull door?_ After an eight minute staring contest with the door, Antonio came up in different, dry clothing and held the door open for him.

"What the fuck do you're doing?!" the Italian yelled, glaring at the other man.

"It looked like you were having trouble leaving...I'm only trying to help."

"Well I don't need your fucking help! I've got hands! Now close the door so I can open it when I _want_ to leave!" The Spaniard walked away from the door, allowing it to close behind him.

"...But your hands are full, how would you pull it open?"

"I'll figure it out on my own dammit! I wasn't even trying to leave!" the frustrated brunette tried to think of an escape plan. He honestly had no idea how he could leave by himself without using his hands. The thought of using his feet crossed his mind once, but he scratched that idea due to the fact that it could end in him falling. So he resolved to allow Antonio to get the door for him, just this once.

"You weren't?" asked a very confused Spaniard.

"No, I liked the view from here dammit! What the fuck did you think?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I-I thought you wanted to leave?"

"Of course I fucking wanted to leave! Why would I want to stare at a closed door forever? _Idiota."_

"So, I _should_ open the door?" Antonio asked, uncertainly.

"Yes! You should've already fucking opened it! Making me stand here like an idiot staring at a closed door. Inconsiderate much?"

"I thought you said to close the door?"

"Do you want me to waste anymore of my time here? Just open the fucking door!"

"Ok," the Spaniard agreed, not quite understanding the situation, but opening the door. "Don't forget to call!" Antonio shouted happily as Lovino scurried off to find his Vespa.

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**I understand that I could add another part to this, but I'm not sure anyone wants to read that. If I get enough requests for it, I'll add that as a second chapter to this, even though this story is marked as complete. Please Read & Review. Reviews make my world go round! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Fourteen reviews?! That's amazing! THANK YOU SO MUCH! They were so encouraging and nice. I'm surprised that many people liked this. At first I thought writing this chapter would like, ruin the story, but I decided I won't know if it's a failure unless I try. Please R & R! :D**

**Disclaimer: No... I just checked... I still don't own anything :(**

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Lovino stared at the numbers written down on the fraction of a piece of paper.

_I should've fucking given him my number. Dammit. What do I do?_

The Italian got up from his position crouching behind the bushes outside the Starbucks where he had met Antonio.

_Was he joking when he told me to call? Oh God. It was a prank. He would put me on speaker and laugh at me in front of the entire store._

The Spaniard was at his position behind the counter, serving customers their orders with a smile.

_Why does that smile have to be so fucking sexy?_

Antonio was taking orders and making drinks all day, but the only thing he could think about was when Lovino was going to call him. The Italian had been coming to this shop for a while now, but it was only last week that Antonio managed to have an actual conversation with him. Before, the Spaniard would watch him from afar, admire his beauty, but with every passing day, he grew greedy. The brunette used to be happy simply to see a smile on the younger's face, but now he wanted more than that. He wanted to be the reason for that smile. He used to settle with asking him for his order, but greed changed that too. He needed more than that. He needed to say more than that.

The green-eyed man reached into his apron to check his cell phone for the seventh time that minute, hiding it under the counter.

Zero missed calls.

_Why isn't he calling? Does he hate me? What did I do? What should I do?_

"Welcome to Starbucks, how may I help you sir?" the Spaniard asked the customer at the front of the line. He gave no indication to the fact that he would go crazy if his phone didn't go off soon, his job was to smile and that's what he did.

Lovino couldn't bear to watch him smile like he didn't care whether or not the Italian called. Without thinking, he left his hiding space, waltzed into the store, and got in line.

_Crap. I didn't think this through. Maybe I should just leave before he sees me._

The brunette turned towards the exit, but three people were already standing behind him.

_Dammit._

The Italian took a step forward with the rest of the line.

_If I had given him my number, I would never have had to worry about calling. Why was past Lovino such an idiot? And a jerk? What kind of person would do this? I swear to God when I find that bastard, I'm going to beat him up._

Another step and Lovino's stomach churned.

_Fuck. What am I going to say when I get to the counter?_

Lovino moved forward some more.

_Why is the line moving so fucking fast? Does everyone want to ruin my life?_

He got closer still.

_What will he do when I see him? Will he think I was ignoring him? It's been a eight days since he gave me his number, is that too long? Is that long enough?_

"Welcome to Starbucks, how may I help you sir?" The cashier stated distractedly, looking at his phone.

"Oi bastard! Look at me when you're talking."

When Antonio heard the voice, he immediately recognized it as Lovino's.

"Sorry, what did you want to order?" the Spaniard smiled, providing the Italian with his undivided attention.

"The um... the uh..." Lovino looked up at the choices labeled above, trying to decide what he wanted. The green-eyed man laughed a bit and leaned over the counter to remove a leaf from the flustered Italian's hair. "What the fuck are you doing?" Lovino asked leaning backwards to avoid the man's hand.

Antonio simply leaned over further, grabbed the leaf, and showed it to the younger man. "This was stuck in your hair."

_No, no, no. That was not there the entire time. He didn't see me with that. Oh God, my stomach, I'm going to throw up. He shouldn't be able to make him feel like this! That bastard!_

"Maybe I wanted it there," Lovino stated slyly.

"Oh... Should I um... Do you want me to put it back?"

"What? No! Just... I don't know, throw it away."

_Why the Hell would I want it back?_

"But you said you wanted it... Here, I'll just give it to you." Antonio took Lovino's hand and placed the leaf in it, causing the Italian to tense up.

_My hand... it feels weird... it's tingling... Oh God, what did he do to it? What's wrong with this guy_?

"Fuck off bastard!" Lovino recoiled, dropping the leaf. "Just keep your hands to yourself and get me that drink!" He pointed to the glazed donut.

"That's not a drink..."

"I fucking know that! I was just trying to make sure you were paying attention _idiota_."

"Oh... Do you just want what you get regularly?"

"Obviously."

_He knows my order?_

Antonio left for a minute to prepare the beverage. "Here's your coffee," the Spaniard stated as he placed the drink on the counter.

_Well it wasn't that complicated..._

"Did you get the sugar?" Lovino asked, taking his wallet from his back pocket and putting bills on the counter.

"Yeah," Antonio smiled. He took off his apron and threw it at another worker. The Spanish man took the recently bought coffee and walked around the counter. "I'm on my break now, I'll take this for you," the cashier stated, heading for a table before the younger a chance to reply.

Lovino quickly stuffed his wallet back into his pants and stormed after the happy-go-lucky Spaniard angrily. "Oi! You can't just take someone's drink like that, bastard!" he yelled, taking his seat.

"Why didn't you call?" Antonio took the other free seat, placed the coffee on the table, and pushed it towards the Italian.

"What?" the brunette asked, a little taken aback.

_He wanted me to call? _

The thought caused the brown-eyed man to smile.

"I gave you my number, remember?"

_Just act cool. I knew I should've called._

"Did you?" the Italian asked in the most composed way he knew how, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Yeah, eight days ago."

_You were counting the days? That's just weird._

"Your phone number... huh, no I couldn't. My um... phone broke," Lovino stated shakily and then began to guzzle his drink.

"That is a relief," the Spaniard smiled.

"You're happy my phone broke? What the fuck is wrong with you?" The Italian asked angrily, getting out of his chair and slamming his drink on the table.

"No, it's not that, I thought you were ignoring-" Antonio was interrupted by sound of the song _City_ by Hollywood Undead coming from Lovino. "Is that your phone?" he asked shyly over the music.

Lovino took out the stupid piece of metal and hurled it at the wall. It exploded across the store, but the Italian kept his composure. "See? It's broken." The brunette pointed to the pieces of plastic and wire on the floor.

_Dammit. I wasn't supposed to actually break it... I was aiming for the window._

"And frankly," he began, placing right hand under his neck. "I am offended that you would insinuate that I'm a liar. It hurts," he stated, dropping his hand dropping his hand with the last sentence.

"I'm sorry," Antonio apologized, getting up and taking a step closer to the Italian.

"You should be! Now look at what you've done! I don't even have your phone number anymore bastard!"

_This. Is. My. Chance._

"But I wrote it down..."

"I fucking lost the paper! Why the fuck would I keep it?"

_And memorize the number... that sounds creepy right?_

"Then I'll give it to you again!" Antonio volunteered.

"Don't bother fuckface. I'll just give you my number." Lovino put his hand out for the Spaniard to place his mobile. "Phone." Antonio handed the Italian his cell and waited as the younger inserted his contact information. The latter then walked over to the exit with the coffee shop employee following him. "Here," he said as faced the Spaniard and returned the electron its rightful owner.

"You fucking better call," Lovino warned as left the store.

"I will!" the Spaniard exclaimed happily in a waving fit as the Italian made his departure.

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**A/N: Is this a better place to end it? I marked it as incomplete just in case, but I think this is where I'm going to stop. Please tell me what you think in a review! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I got so many reviews! I could just... I don't even know, I'm so happy. How do I control it. *Runs around the house screaming and failing my arms until I hit a wall* Since this story is popular, I've decided that I definitely want to continue it. Um, I don't know how long this will be yet, or when it ends... I don't even know when that date is going to happen. Okay, questions for future me to answer. Please R&R.**

**Warning: This story will probably be mostly fluff.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of their awesome characters.**

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As soon as Antonio finished his shift, he began to phone the Italian relentlessly, to no avail.

"Why isn't he answering my calls?" He asked nervously, staring at his mobile.

"It's not good to keep calling him like that," Francis warned.

"But he hasn't picked up, so he probably just didn't hear it ring. If I call one more time, he should pick up," the Spaniard reasoned, calling the number yet again.

"How many times have you called him already?"

"I don't know, I lost count somewhere after a hundred," he admitted, holding the phone to his ear.

"A HUNDRED?! That simply won't do. Give me your phone," Francis said, extending his hand. "Now."

"No."

"Give me the phone."

"No, I need it in case he picks up, or calls me back."

"Are you sure he likes you?"

"Why else would he ask for my number?"

"When did he do that?"

"Eight days ago."

"Eight? He's not calling."

"But then he gave me his number today."

"And he hasn't picked up. Take the hint, Antonio."

"He's probably just taking a nap."

"_Take the hint,_ Antonio. He doesn't like you."

"Then why would he give me his number?"

"I'm not going to pretend to know everything about that Italian friend of yours, but I know how people work in general. If he's asleep then he'll call you when he wakes up, so give me your phone."

"But then how will I know if he calls me?"

"He's not going to call you because he's ignoring you! He probably gave you the wrong number out of pity or something. Give me your phone."

"I can't just give it to you. I need it to call him."

Francis sighed. "I guess you're right. He probably got so excited that you were going to call him, he had to take a _siesta_."

"Yeah, that has to be it!" He smiled, looking at his companion.

The Frenchman relaxed and surveyed the surrounding area, his eye caught on something at the opposite end of the room. "What's that?" he asked, pointing behind Antonio. As the Spaniard turned around, the blonde took his chance to steal the phone. He quickly snatched it out of the man's hands and started to turn it off.

"Give that back!" the brunette demanded, reaching for his mobile.

His blue-eyed friend quickly moved away and extended his hand so that it was out of reach. "This is for your own good. You need to get away from this phone for a while."

"Why hasn't that bastard called me yet?" Lovino questioned.

"Didn't it take you eight days to _almost _call?" his British friend inquired. "Maybe he wants to make you wait like he did."

"He wouldn't do that!" the Italian protested, glaring at the other man.

"How do you know that? How much do you even know about him?" the Briton asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I know plenty!"

"Like?"

"He works at Starbucks!"

"That's one thing."

"He ummm... You know what? You're not one to talk to about relationship advice!"

"Uh-huh. What makes you say that, you know, _other_ than blind rage?"

"One word. Alfred."

Arthur whipped his head around so fast Lovino could've gotten whiplash just from watching. He squinted and glared at the irascible man. "I told you to _never_ mention that name around me? Understand? I was too good for that twit."

"So that's why he left you? You were too _good_?" the brunette smirked.

"One more word on that subject and it will be your last."

The Italian scoffed. "Whatever," he said rolling his eyes.

"You want to go get coffee?"

"No, his shift is over for the day."

"You know the times he works? Don't you think that's a bit stalker-ish?"

"Shut up. Just because I know he's done for the day doesn't mean you can call me a stalker."

"Uh-huh. Why don't you just call him?"

"Why would I do that? He has my number. That bastard should be calling me."

"Didn't you have his number first though?"

"Shut up!"

The Brit rolled his eyes. "Okay... maybe your phone died or is on silent so you couldn't hear it ring."

"Of course! That must be it!" Lovino dug into his pocket for his phone, but it wasn't there.

"Did you lose it?"

"Of course not. The last time I took it out was... to throw it at the wall..." the Italian confessed.

"You broke your phone?"

"I didn't really-"

"No, more importantly, you gave him the number to your broken phone?"

"You see what happened was-"

"No, not even that, you were waiting for it to ring. That's what baffles me most."

"Shut the fuck up! I fucking get it okay? It wasn't the smartest thing I could've done."

"No, it was definitely the dumbest thing you've ever done."

"Whatever bastard," Lovino began, putting on a jacket. "I need to get a new phone now." He grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out.

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**A/N: So, the only thing I think after reading this chapter is 'why is this chapter so short?!' Ugh, I just... Sorry, the next chapter will be longer and should include an actual phone calls where both parties have working phones. Please tell me what you think in a review! Constructive criticism is wanted. Regular criticism is depressing and unwanted.**


	4. Chapter 4

**So... what's up? Do you hate me? **

**I'm really sorry for not posting, but I HAVE SO MUCH TO DO ALL THE TIME!**

**Ugh, regardless, I managed to muster up some time and get this written... but nothing else.**

**I hope you like it. **

**Stuff will happen. I have a plan now. Patience.**

**Want something to happen? Ask me. You like something? Tell me. You hated something? Explain (in a non-bashing manner). **

**I can't get better if I don't know what I'm doing wrong and what I'm doing right. Please read and review.**

**Disclaimer: I only own Haiti2013's shoe... I took it from here when she wasn't looking. But no Hetalia characters mind you.**

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Lovino paced back and forth across the room. He removed his cell from his pocket, and then checked the screen for the umpteenth time. Angered with the results, he chucked the phone onto the couch.

"Do you know how many times I called that fucking bastard?" Arthur glanced at his friend over the top of his book but said nothing. "Not once, not twice, not even thrice!"

"Thrice?" the Brit questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, thrice. It's a word. I can use it. I called the bastard _four_ fucking times, and he has yet to pick up!"

Arthur shot him an angry glare, "When_ I _say it, it 'couldn't sound more fictitious,' but now that _you_ useit, _obviously _it's a word."

"Damn right it is!" Lovino asserted. At that point, the Brit simply rolled his eyes and loosely went back to his book. "Screw it. I'm just too mad to even think about your made up words or that Spanish bastard. I just need to calm down." The aggravated Italian combed his hands through his hair in a fruitless attempt abate his fury.

A smirk took over the Englishman's face before he spoke, "A cappuccino usually works, doesn't it? Let's go to that Starbucks a little ways from here."

Blinded by his own annoyance, the brunette failed to remember the problem he had with that particular coffee shop. With an irritated sigh, he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. "Finally, one idea that isn't completely idiotic."

"Today couldn't be any worse," the Italian ranted. "Some jackass drives too close to the curb and drenches me in water; not any water, mind you, but that crap that was going into the sewers. Who the fuck does that?! He was obviously doing it on purpose, that asshat! That's not even the worst part. I had to go into work at six fucking AM. That's far too early for _any living thing_ to be up, so obviously I had to be _at_ work by then, just to turn in some crappy assignment that god forbid I gave in the night before. I shouldn't even have gone home; I got like two seconds of sleep. And for what? To give some shit to the editorial staff? Not. Fucking. Worth it."

"I looked over your review for you already though," Arthur commented, not really interested in the conversation; he simply didn't appreciate his editorial skills being challenged.

"You don't think I fucking knew that? But _no_. I gotta do everything the way they fucking tell me to like I'm some sort of two year old. And there was this new guy on the editorial staff who didn't know shit! I ended up trekking around the entire freaking building for no fucking reason! I could probably map the whole damn place out by now from memory. It was a life time before anyone would even _consider_ collecting my review. I don't even want to talk about it anymore." The two took another step forward and the man in front of them began ordering. Lovino was too busy ranting to hear that though. "Then I stepped in cat shit. It's all that new guy's fault too! They were swarming around him like an army of sorts! Long story short, I hate everyone." Lovino went up the register as he said his final words.

"Except me right?" a familiar voice asked innocently.

"Especially you!" the Italian barked, coming face to face with the person he least wanted to see. His face immediately reddened. "Wait no, I mean- Well, It's not that- I don't- Where the fuck did you come from?!"

"I work here?"

"Like that gives you the right to scare the fucking shit out of me."

"It is your turn to order."

"That means shit! Don't talk to me until I'm fucking ready goddamit!" The Spaniard gave a bewildered look, but said nothing, nonetheless. "Why didn't you pick up your phone, bastard?!"

"I wanted to talk to you about that; I have to wait until my break though, so can you please wait one minute?" the Spaniard asked with a benevolent smile.

"I waited in this fucking line for an eternity! No, I will not wait 'a minute!'"

The Italian's dagger like stare had no effect however; the cashier only continued with his routine. "Hi, welcome to Starbucks. What can I get for you?"

Arthur, who had been texting since he last spoke, finally looked up. With a grin, he asked for a coffee and cappuccino.

Preparing the drinks in record time (really, anything under an hour was a record for Antonio), the Spaniard had both drinks ready while completely ignoring Lovino's demands for attention. He took both drinks and walked off to a table in the corner of the store.

Both the Italian and Englishman were left dumbfounded as they followed the Spaniard to his secondary location.

"What the Hell? We didn't even get to pay yet!" Lovino asked, more irritated than before.

"They're on the house," Antonio claimed, doling out drinks to the two. "Arthur, you're an agent right? My friend wanted to talk to you about a job," he explained quickly. "He's right over there." The Spaniard pointed to a blond a few tables down who was leafing through a magazine.

"Really? I was actually looking for a new client. What does he-"

"We are not going to ignore the fact that this bastard paid for my coffee!" Lovino interrupted, fed up with the Spaniard.

Arthur just rolled his eyes and uttered a thank you before heading towards the suggested table.

"I am positive that I told you before, you aren't allowed to buy-" the Italian stopped when he felt lips on his. It took him a moment, but he shoved Antonio away.

"You like me, don't you?" the tall brunette asked apprehensively. He took a step back as Lovino began to yell.

"I don't care if I'm fucking in love with you! You don't just kiss me like that!" The Italian's face reddened and he was doing his best to pass the color off as anger.

"I called you a lot, but you never picked up."

"My phone was broken! It hit the fucking wall!"

"You never got a new one?"

"... I did." Lovino reached into his pocket and pulled out his new iPhone 5s to show the cashier. "I just had to do some things first."

Antonio stared at him for a bit. "You had to 'do some things' for two weeks?"

"I'm forgetful, okay?!"

"Mhmm, and when did I _ever_ miss a call?"

"I called you a thousand times!"

"When?"

Lovino glanced at his watch and shyly mumbled, "two hours ago."

The Spaniard's face was ridden with disappointment; however that didn't last very long. He smiled faintly and moved slightly closer to the Italian.

That was actually a quality that Lovino liked in him; he was quick to forgive.

"Why don't we just pick a date now, so we don't have to deal with phone issues in the future? You still do want to go on a date, right?"

The brunette looked away, in effort to appear apathetic, when in reality, he was ecstatic. "Sure. I'm free Friday."

"Perfect! I'll see you then." Antonio glanced at his watch. "My break is over, so I have to get back. Let's just meet up here at six. I'll drive. We can plan from there. Dinner and a movie seems cool right?" He walked backwards towards the counter as he waited for Lovino's response.

"Whatever."

Arthur rapidly got up from his table, flipping it over with all of its contents, and attracting the attention of everyone in the store. "If you were a watermelon, I'd bloody smash you into pieces!" He threw jacket over his shoulder and stormed out of the store, leaving everyone bewildered.

Lovino merely rolled his eyes and followed the overdramatic Brit.

_Some people just like to make a scene._

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**A/N: If by some crazy miracle I reach 48 reviews, I will update again before the month ends.**

**(Most likely next week Sunday, but I don't know what the future will throw at me. I've got my bat ready if that's any consolation.)**


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